


on the matter of artistic license

by Megkips



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/pseuds/Megkips
Summary: Happy Yuletide, fio!Thanks always to S. for the beta, andthose delivery guys are exactly who you think.The painting in questionshows up in theCase Files manga!





	on the matter of artistic license

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio/gifts).



Berthélemy’s work looked nothing like the man. There was no reason for it; Berthélemy was painting in France before the Revolution turned all of Europe on its head. Him, David, everyone wanted to show the beauty of the classical age, and that meant the beautiful bodies that the Greeks and Romans prized too. If Berthélemy had known, if any of them had known what the real visage of Iskandar was, well...

...well that would be a portrait worth owning too. As it was, the copy that Lord El-Melloi II stood in front of was more than enough. The creator of the copy was unknown, but it was antique enough that he had spent money, real money, El-Melloi family money on acquiring it. Reines had called up to make sure that there wasn’t any credit fraud.

Behind him, the art movers picked up the overly plush sofa that crowned the video game room of the Lord El-Melloi II apartment, a little spot on Druid Street that the El-Melloi family owned. A way to repay debt, he had said to the new family head at the time. As they prepared to put the painting in place, Lord El-Melloi II brushed his finger over Alexander’s elaborately plumed helmet, then the man’s face. The expression was equally unfamiliar, but the aura the figure of Alexander projected in the painting, the confidence to see the thing through to the end, that was something that Waver Velvet had witnessed, albeit in a circumstances so very different than the cutting of the Gordian Knot.

They had talked about the knot once before, the day after Caster’s stunt on the bridge. Recovering Rider’s mana required all the rest that Waver could muster, but sleeping for 24 solid hours was impossible. So Waver lay in the middle of the forest in Fuyuki in his little sleeping bag while Rider hovered, invisible.

It was at that point that Rider asked, “What do you intend to do if someone comes upon our site, hm?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” was the response. “I have a knife.”

A low rumble. “Do you now?”

“I...” Waver huffed, peeling himself out of the sleeping bag. He snatched up the pillow that he was using, revealing a small knife. “See?! There.”

“I see, I see,” Rider said, trying his very best to make it sound like he wasn’t laughing. The attempt failed. “That should be good enough.”

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not!”

Waver huffed, putting the pillow back down and glaring at the air in front of him. Talking to a disembodied voice who could only use tone to communicate was starting to get very old very fast. 

“I mean it,” Rider said. “So long as it’s sharp and you can react quickly. That first part’s important.”

“Duh,” Waver said with an eyeroll. “Wait,” he caught himself, parsing the words carefully. There was an implication there. “When did you not have a sharpened knife when you needed it?”

Rider replied with a hearty laugh, “My oxen might tell the story better than I could.”

Waver stared blankly at the air. “Your ox....” he groaned, clapping one hand to his forehead. “You had a dull knife when you cut the Gordian knot!?”

“Cut’s the wrong word, I think,” Rider said. “The knot was made of cornel bark, so the motion was closer to sawing than cutting, exactly.”

Waver groaned loudly, feeling the next words spill out of his mouth before he could even stop them. “A serrated edge would have been better than a regular knife in that case.”

“Hephaestion said the same thing!” Rider declared with another laugh. His words suddenly became ponderous. “In the exact same tone, come to think of it. He walked out to try and go get a saw only to come back just as I was finishing, if I remember correctly.”

There was nothing else to say. Waver only groaned again, this time louder and more put-upon. “I’m going to just...just...just try sleeping some more!” he snapped, flopping down onto the pillow. “Jeez. Keep watch and let me know if anyone’s coming!”

And that had been that. Waver had managed to get back to sleep, and then the rest of the Grail War continued in all of its horrors, concluding with Rider’s death and the massive horrid fire that engulfed too much of the city.

Lord El-Melloi II sighed, withdrawing his hands from the surface of the canvas. The original piece would always be beyond his grasp, it was a French national treasure. But the oil painting in front of him, it was his and it was going to be in the only real place of honor that he had in the little apartment.

“Hey, boss.”

The voice of one of the workmen cut through Lord El-Melloi II’s thought process. It was an accent so broad and so overly Cockney that he thought it was a parody.

“Mmm?” 

“You gotta step back so we can move the piece.”

“Yes, of course,” Lord El-Melloi II said apologetically, taking a few steps back as the other two art handlers walked over. It was coordinated work, each man bending down to grab the painting at exactly the right spot to support it, and then lifting it in unison.

Steady arms moved the painting over towards the wall where the hanging equipment was installed. The man who spoke to Lord El-Melloi II was on one ladder, and a fourth man was on another ladder, a few feet apart from the first man. In a careful handoff, the painting was moved by the two men on the ladders, then hung onto the wall with utmost care. 

The two men still on the ground held the ladders carefully, and after a moment or so of waiting for the painting to settle, the one who had interrupted Lord El-Melloi II’s thoughts spoke again.

“How’s that looking, boss?”

Lord El-Melloi II squinted. “It’s tilted slightly to my left -- your right.”

There was a moment of movement and... “Now?”

“Perfect. Thank you very much, gentlemen.”

One of the art movers still on the ground replied with an all too cheerful, “Not at all, gov’nor.”

Lord El-Melloi II chose to ignore that, and instead stood an appreciable distance back from the painting while the art handlers moved the sofa back to where it was. Each leg was realigned back to the impression that it left in the carpeting, the ladders were taken out, and everything was as it ought to be.

“That’s all, is it?” the most talkative of the art handlers asked, once the sofa was in place.

“Yes it is, thank you.” Lord El-Melloi II paused to go fishing in the back pocket of his trousers, pulling out the least crumpled pair of 20 pound notes that he knew existed in his apartment. “Much appreciated.”

The art handler took the bills. “We’ll see ourselves out then.”

Before Lord El-Melloi II could even respond, the handlers were out of the door to the video game room, and in truth, Lord El-Melloi II didn’t care to see the four back to their van that was emblazoned Breekon & Hope. They weren’t the important part of this delivery.

A faint smile was on Lord El-Melloi II’s lips as he walked over to where the sofa was and moved his hand upwards, again touching the figure of Alexander. No words passed across his lips, but he kept his fingers there as if the man was flesh and blood and could feel the gentle pressure being applied. It was the kind of touch shared in moments of long, comfortable silences, the kind of touch that made sure the other person knew how much they meant.

Lord El-Melloi II withdrew his hand with a sigh, then settled onto the couch. “Ow...fuck!” he declared. A moment of putting his hand under the couch cushion revealed an abandoned PS2 controller, cord and all.

“How did that even get there?!” he asked the silent room, only to groan. “Fuck, it was probably me.”

At the very least, it made the question of what game system to use for the evening easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, fio!
> 
> Thanks always to S. for the beta, and [those delivery guys are exactly who you think.](http://the-magnus-archives.wikia.com/wiki/Breekon_%26_Hope)
> 
> [The painting in question](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alexander_cuts_the_Gordian_Knot.jpg) shows up in the [Case Files manga](https://66.media.tumblr.com/a42af5886a15c4e5824332343e533e08/tumblr_oxa0ohqLrt1qk3azgo1_500.jpg)!


End file.
